


Lead Us Not into Temptation

by ZoeBug



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blasphemy, Confessional, Explicit Sexual Content, I assure you, Incubus!Jean, Latin Kink, M/M, Marco wants it, Mildly Dubious Consent, Priest, Priest Kink, Priest!Marco, Religion Kink, Religious Guilt, Rosaries, but only cause of the religious guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeBug/pseuds/ZoeBug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Always like it when they start praying," the demon practically purrs around the rosary dangling from his lips. "Adds ambience, in my opinion."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead Us Not into Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed so sorry for any typos. And uuugh this could probably be improved upon but I'm so tired and it was already late for Emma's birthday, so I'm gonna roll with it. Still super embarrassed I wrote something like this but here we are.
> 
> Regardless, I've always wanted to write blasphemy kink. I'm sure this will not be the last. And there isn't enough Priest!Marco in the world and you can blame AA for getting me hooked on the idea in the first place. And as for Jean, of course I made him a smug smartass because Incubus!Jean is still Jean.
> 
> Written for stupid dumb Emma cause it was your birthday or whatever I guess. And you cosplay gay boys with me so I wrote you something cause I might appreciate your friendship or some gay shit like that and think you're sorta cool and fun to hang out with or whatever but it's not a big deal or anything, baka.

"O-oh!" Father Marco Bodt gasps, suddenly careening sideways as a shoulder slams into him, sending the books that had been teetering precariously in his arms flying across the hallway. "Oh dear..." he sighs sadly, surveying the mess.

"Father? Oh, man, I'm really sorry." Looking up from the scattered books, Marco's eyes land on the one responsible.

"Brother Kirschtein. You seem, ah, lively this morning."

"'morning, Father," the boy replies sheepishly, "I am sorry about your books. I wasn't really watching where I was going." As he speaks, he leans down and begins to collect the fallen books haphazardly strewn across the stone floor.

"Slept in again, did we?" The priest asks, crouching down to do the same and the tawny haired boy laughs, collecting volumes into his arms.

"Yeah. Had a tough night sleeping, I guess."

"Is it because of what we talked about, Brother?"

The past Sunday, during Father Marco's regular hours in the confessional, he'd been surprised when Brother Jean Kirschtein, new to the parish by a few weeks, had slipped into the booth on the other side of the screen.

"Bless me, Father," the boy had started, and at the time, Marco had thought to himself that the tone of voice sounded a bit strange - somehow smug - but had shaken it off. He had duties to perform after all. "For I have sinned."

"How long has it been since your last confession, child?" Marco had asked, concerned for the fairly new resident of his parish.

"A...a long while. I wasn't too devout before I joined up here, to be honest. But I saw the light. I thought I would try to live my life according to the Lord's word but..."

"But?" Marco had prodded, unable to see much besides a shadowy silhouette through the screen.

"Oh, Father, it's harder than I thought it would be."

Again, there it was, that smug undertone to the boy's voice. And again, he'd pushed it away, sure he was imaging things.

"Tell me what sin is weighing so heavily on you so I may absolve you of it."

"Yes, Father. I...I've had impure thoughts about someone in this parish since I joined."

"Impure thoughts? Tell me more so I can decide your act of contrition."

"Well, it's not just thoughts, either, I-"

"Remember I am here to help you in the Lord's place. Hold nothing back as you would hold nothing from Him."

"Sure. All right." He'd heard a deep, steadying inhale and exhale from the other side. "Well, at night, when everyone else is asleep and it's dark, I'll have thoughts about them and I'll touch myself, Father, when I think about him. Touching him. Kissing him."

"Him? Oh, dear," Marco had muttered to himself, his concern for the boy worsening. "That is quite sinful indeed."

"Yeah."

"What else, child?" He'd asked.

Pious and holy as Father Marco was, he hadn't been able help the words summoning images to his mind. Of the boy tangled in the sheets of his cot, forehead shining with sweat, eyes squeezed shut, chest bare and flushed, gasping out, - " _F-Father-!"_ \- hand working up and dow-

 _At this rate_ I _might need confessional,_ Marco had thought worriedly, reciting a quick, internal Glory Be to clear the sinful images.

When he'd come back to himself, the boy's low, smooth voice had still been floating through the stale air of the confessional to him.

"...kissing between his legs, making him squirm and gasp for me. Shameful, I know. And then, when I touch myself, imagining my hands and mouth all over him it just feels _so_ _good_ , Father, I can't stop myself."

 _Heaven help me,_ Marco had thought, quickly signing a cross over his chest at the way the boy's voice elicits an unwanted shiver from him, _and this poor wayward child_.

"I-I think I now grasp the nature of your situation, Brother Kirschtein."

"Yeah?" He'd asked, his tone laced with that unknown quality again.

"You carry the sin of Lust in your heart - a very grievous one. In order for me to absolve you, you must be devoted to contrition."

"I am."

"Then I think three rosaries every morning when you wake and three more before you go to sleep should be enough. It will cleanse your mind of impure thoughts if you fill it with devotion to the Lord in times of temptation."

"Is that so?" Brother Kirschtein had inquired from the other side of the screen. Marco is sure he'd imagined it after the fact, but it had been as if an unseen light had reflected of the boy's honey eyes and glinted in the darkness beyond.

"Y-Yes. Now, God go with you for the rest of the day, Brother Kirschtein." Marco had stated, his voice wavering a bit even to his own ears, and had quickly recited while signing the cross over his chest again, "Give thanks to the Lord for He is good."

"For His mercy endures forever." The boy had answered the prayer and stepped out of the confessional with a soft, "Thank you, Father."

Marco had simply slumped against the wooden bench feeling drained.

 

Gathering up the last of the books that had fallen to the floor, Marco hauls himself to his feet, the boy still kneeling to grab the last stray volume. He's closer than Marco remembers him, and he looks up at the priest, eyes seeming dark and thoughtful, the corner of his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

"I've been doing the rosaries like you asked, Father."

"Have-" Marco has to pause to clear his throat, his mouth going suddenly and inexplicably dry at the sight of the boy kneeling in front of him, looking up at him with such a heavy gaze. "Have they been helping?" He tries again and manages to get the words out normally.

"Somewhat."

"I'm glad. Have faith, Brother Kirschtein. Working to live righteous lives is a process. Sin is part of human nature."

"Is it now?" Is all he says, climbing to his feet as well.

When he stepped forward to place the books back in the priest's arms, unbidden, he leaned in close to Marco's ear, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin and he couldn't hold back the shudder that wracked him.

"Speaking from experience now are we, Father Marco?"

Nearly tripping rather than stepping backwards, the priest simply stared at the boy, unable to find words.

"Well, I'm late for my morning chores anyway. See you later, Father!"

And with a casual wave via a flick of his wrist he was off, running down the hall as he'd come.

Marco would be lying if he said he hadn't been fighting off impure thoughts of his own since that day in the confessional. But this was his duty, after all. To deny all worldly sin. To lead by example for the dozens of souls under his care in this parish. And if Brother Kirschtein was struggling, he _especially_ needed to remain strong.

Shaking his head to clear his mind and shifting the books in his arms, he sets off down the hallway himself.

 

"... _forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen."_

Marco slowly lifts his forehead from where it had been lightly resting atop his folded hands, sighing wearily and setting his rosary down on the bed he is kneeling beside.

The rest day had been exhausting and it had been long past nightfall when he'd retired to his nightly routine of washing and prayers. And now, he'd only gotten through the first "Our Father" and already he could feel his eyes drooping and his consciousness beginning to skitter away like snow blown across the surface of a frozen pond.

Tilting his head up at the ceiling he sighs wearily.

 _Surely one day of not finishing my last rosary can't hurt_ , Marco thinks, the soft glow of the candle light beside his small cot making his head swim with tiredness. _I can even do an extra one tomorrow to make up for it_.

The priest hauled himself to his feet, setting the rosary on his bedside table with the clatter of beads.

With a soft sigh, he climbs into bed. He blows out the candle, plunging the small room into near darkness. Only the soft glow of the moon now filters into his room in silvery slices through the small window above him.

Tugging the covers up to his chin, Marco closes his eyes and eventually falls into a fitful sleep.

 

The sleep, however, does not remain uninterrupted for very long. Through the thick, shifting fog of sleep, Marco's mind registers something off about the state of his body. A shortness of breath or a heaviness. Maybe both.

Consciousness follows the discomfort inevitably but slowly. With a sleepy groan, Marco blinks open his eyes, disoriented in the darkness of his small bed chamber within the parish, the tiredness pulling down on his eyelids like they are made of lead.

He tries to pull in a breath, but finds he's having trouble. And it is that moment, paired with the confusion of lack of air, he registers a dark shape above him in the bed.

Sobering icy fear shoots through him, effectively startling him completely awake.

"Who- what-?!" He sputters, his body jerking in an attempt to roll away off the bed, but finding himself, for all intents and purposes, pinned to it.

A low laugh echoes softly in the darkness and Marco freezes.

"So you're finally awake," the voice says, smooth and dark and so close to his ear.

"Who are...?" Marco asks, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling just the slightest before barely making out the coloring of hair and eyes through the shadows where the moon's light doesn't reach. "Brother Kirschtein?! What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

"What, you've never heard the stories?" The boy asks, and the way his voice seems to flow through the air, sweet and thick like honey, makes him shiver. "Waking up to someone on lying your chest in the middle of the night? I would have thought everyone knew them."

"S-Stories?" He stutters, following the word with a sharp inhale as the boy leans closer, into the pool of moonlight where it spills across the top part of the bed.

The first thing Marco's eyes are drawn too are the skin, almost glowing where the moon lights across a bare chest and the priest realizes with a simultaneous shock of fear, anxiety, and a small flutter of excitement that the boy is naked.

Muscles flex and Marco swallows as he leans closer, a dangerous smirk twisting the handsome face.

"About incubi."

"I-Incubi?" The priest echoes dumbly, but his confusion is quickly overtaken by annoyance. "I- Brother Kirschtein, this kind of prank is entirely unacceptable. Please leave my room immediately. I'll speak to you in the morning about this."

The expression doesn't change save for the smile creeping ever wider across his face.

"Oh, holy, pure, Father Marco. You don't seem to understand."

And suddenly, those pink lips - _have they always looked that soft?_ Marco thinks distantly - part and out slithers an _honest to God_ forked tongue, the honey eyes flashing into the slits of snakes eyes for a moment before shifting back.

Almost instinctively, Marco's hand darts out to snatch the rosary off his nightstand clutching the beads between white knuckles.

Unphased, the boy leans back a little, chuckling darkly, his face seeming to have returned completely to normal.

"I may be a demon but, ah, I don't think that'll do much for you at this point," he states, jerking his chin at the rosary which now begins to sway under snaking hands.

" _O' my Jesus, forgive us of our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls_ -" Marco begins to recite frantically.

Suddenly, he is cut off as the incubus swoops down to capture the rosary between his teeth, yanking it from the priest's fingers. In the same moment dexterous, warm hands come up to grasp Marco's freed ones by the wrists, pinning them beside his head.

"Always like it when they start praying," the demon practically purrs around the rosary dangling from his lips. "Adds ambiance, in my opinion."

"Why- why are you here?" Marco whimpers, struggling against the strong arms and heavy weight holding him down.

"I'm an incubus. Why do you think I'm here?" The flash of the demon's eyes sends a thrill down the priests' spine as he shifts Marco's wrists to one hand, freeing the other to slip the rosary around his own neck, leaving it to dangle down onto his bare chest.

"O-Oh Lord...please don't-"

"Suits me, don'chya' think?" The incubus smirks down at Marco.

"A-Aren't incubi supposed to lie with women?" Marco inquires in a tremulous whisper.

"I'm a demon," the incubus replies, as if stating the obvious. "The more sins we can pack into one night the better. Multitasking isn't just for the busy-bee holy men."

Marco swallows.

"You see, Father, I've had my eye on you for a long, long time. I've been slinking around your parish for a week and I can tell, despite all your laughably holy attempts... you've got some sin in your heart at the moment too."

"I would never-"

"Then why can I smell how hot you're getting from this? Hmm? Why would I leave when I've finally got you deliciously pinned down and all to myself?"

As he speaks, the incubus leans down so his lips are nearly brushing Marco's ears. He can feel the rosary's weight hanging off the demon, resting on his chest.

"Being a demon and all, I tend to take what I want. Kind of in the job description." The hot breath accompanying the words seem to rake over the nerves along his neck and ears, making him squirm under the incubus's weight.

"But, ya' see, the real fun comes when I make you want it as much as I do. Make you gasp for more. Make you beg me to never, ever stop...."

"N-no!" Marco protests, squeezing his eyes shut against frustrated tears, silently cursing his body for its unbidden reactions. "Lying with even _human_ men is...with- with men is..." The puffs of air against his ears and the soft skin of his neck are derailing his train of thought, making it hard to form coherent words.

"A sin?" Prompts the creature.

"A sin!" Marco gasps out, feeling the weight shift against him.

"Don't worry, Father," the incubus soothes, that dark, smooth voice seeming to surround him, "I've made men holier than you beg me for things far more wicked than what I have planned for you tonight."

Marco gasps, letting out a strangled, choking sound as he feels a warm, wet tongue trace its way along the shell of his ear.

"You've got such a pretty voice..." The demon's own voice is silken and dark, following his tongue as it makes its way around the shell and lobe of Marco's ear. "Can't wait to hear more of it."

Marco squeezes his eyes shut, a terrified whimper escaping from his lips and before he knows it they are moving of their own accord.

" _O-Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy k-kingdom-_ "

The prayer is cut short by a deep chuckle and a sharp nip on his neck.

"Maybe you should pray harder, Father. If I didn't know better I'd say you were even enjoying this. Oh, wait, I do know."

_"...y k-kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven-"_

A hand slithers down Marco's chest pushing up his light nightshirt to rub a nipple and Marco yelps, trying to ignore the jolt that races down between his legs where pressure had already been building thanks to the ministrations of the creature's tongue.

"Oh no...Doesn't seem like it's working, Father." The incubus teases, "Maybe you should try Latin."

Frantically trying to fight the warm, sweet fog flooding his body, Marco grasps at straws.

 _"- nostrum quotidianum da n-nobis hodie, et,_ ah, _et dimitte nobis_ -"

"I was kidding," the incubus teases.

 _" d-debita nos_ \- nnnngh!" Marco chokes through the word when hips begin to move against him and he can feel, unmistakably, the demon's hard length grinding against his thigh.

"There's that pretty voice. Let me hear more of that. Mmm..."

Marco is close to tears with frustration and guilt. He wants to resist because he knows this is wrong, has been taught this is wrong his whole life, that sex - especially sex with men (not even touching on sex with _demon_ men) - is sinful and dirty. But _ohh_ how he wants it. He wants those hands to keep exploring him, pulling from him these delicious, fiery, shivering feelings from him - feelings he has denied his whole life that now set his body alight.

His mind feels like molasses, thick and sweet, and he can't think, can't reason. All he can do is sink deeper and deeper into it.

"That's it. Just give in to it."

Marco realizes he's been moaning softly in response to the soft rocking of the demon's body against his and the soft lips on his neck.

The hand on his chest slides slowly downward toward the soft skin of his stomach, and Marco feels his cock twitch, now fully hard, at the proximity. The incubus chuckles.

Panting, Marco can only lie there, hands pinned above his head, while the demon pulls sounds and sensations alike from him.

"If I let your hands go, are you gonna stay there like a good boy?" The words are gravely and low, laced with desire.

"W-What are you going to do?" Marco manages to gasp, and his voice sounds willowy and fragile to his own ears.

"Just stay put or you'll never find out."

Curiosity, dark and addicting, floods him and when that warm, strong hand lifts free of his wrists, he doesn't jerk up and out of bed, running for the door like he probably should have.

Instead, he lays still as the demon smirks up at him, his eyes wicked and full of whispered promise, and slides down his body until he is hovering over Marco' stomach. The priest feels his rosary bumping against the flesh of his thigh where it still hangs from around the incubus's neck.

"Didn't I tell you what I imagined doing to you in confessional the other day?" He asks, and with his nightshirt hiked up previously, he can feel hot breath on the sensitive skin. "I toned down the description 'cause I didn't want to scare you off. Think you'd run for the hills if I'd told you back there I wanted to suck your cock until you came down my throat taking the Lord's name in vain. What do you think?"

Marco _moans_ at the filthy words, his hips bucking of their own accord.

"Would you like that, Father? For me to swallow you down over and over until you were begging me?"

"Ngh- Mm!" Marco moans, biting his lip, his cock twitching painfully when he feels long, thin fingers tugging at the fabric of his sleep shorts, pulling them down his thighs to expose his hardness to the hot, humid room.

" _Fuck,_ you have a pretty cock," when the words drift up to him, Marco swears the voice has dropped half and octave. "So hard for me, mmm...Can't wait to feel it inside me."

He feels a smooth hand wrap around him and start sliding up and down his cock, eased when the demon uses the precome dripping from the tip to smear it along the length.

"Ah! Oh, Lord," Marco pants out, his eyes rolling back with pleasure.

Poor Father Marco is going absolutely crazy by the time he feels a cool tongue trace a slow, languid, _sinful_ circle around the head of his cock and he almost chokes with the pleasure.

How can something like this be wrong, Marco thinks distantly, when every fiber of his body is screaming out for _more, yes, please for the love of everything that's holy, don't stop_!

Hot, wet heat, as glorious as any church choir, as intense as any moving sermon envelopes him and he jerks his hips unconsciously up into it, unable to resist. He can feel the chilly wood of the cross on his rosary gently knocking against his thigh as the incubus moves and it sends a strange thrill through.

The demon's mouth pulls back, just enough for Marco to hear him speak, his voice ragged and low and it makes him _shudder_.

"You can fuck my throat if you want," he whispers against the head of Marco's cock and it jerks against his lips. The chuckle that follows elicits the same reaction. "You can do anything you want as long as I get you for the whole night."

It is quiet in the room, the air hanging heavy and hot, aside from the slick sounds of the demon's mouth and the harsh pants of Marco's breathing, punctuated here and there by moans and gasps of " _Oh_ ," and " _Nn- yes!_ "

Marco is nearly squirming, hands tangling mindlessly in the sheets, the blankets, even eventually daring to reach down and slide through the soft silk of tawny hair. The incubus hums in approval around him and Marco groans at the sensation, tightening his fingers a little.

After a few glorious minutes, golden lights dancing behind his eyelids, the mouth suddenly disappears with a filthy slick sound and a whimper has escaped his lips before he can catch it.

Looking down, Marco feels a jolt surge through his body right down between his legs at the sight of Brother Kirschtein - the boy he'd tried so hard not to imagine naked and panting with desire - now demonic and glowing in the moonlight between his legs, lips shiny with saliva, and panting.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he sits up, slinking sinuously up Marco's body to capture his lips in a kiss.

Marco's never been kissed like this. It is all heat and need and the press of hard, warm muscle moving deliciously against him. He feels surprisingly human, pressed to him like this, strangely solid.

"Ready for the main course, Father?" He breathes into the space between their lips, breaking the trance of the kiss. "'Cause I sure am."

"Main...?" Marco's eyes widen.

"The whole time I had you in my mouth all I could think about was how fucking good you'd feel inside me. _Fuck_ it got me hard." As if to illustrate his point, he thrusts his hips sharply into Marco's and he can feel the hot hardness of the incubus against his thigh. "So lucky I found you, Father Marco."

Sitting back on his hands the incubus, his own cock hard and dripping with desire, positions himself over the helpless priest.

"And lucky for you, I'm an incubus, so we get to skip all the inconvenient preparation parts."

"Y-yes," Marco laugh is high and strained, "Ha, lucky..."

The demon, hovering over him, lines himself up with the priests cock, his eyes flicking up to Marco's. For a second, they just hang there in the moment, honey and chocolate, righteous and damned, heaven and hell trapped together in a swirling moment of need and shame and desire.

"Say it."

The words are so low Marco barely catches them, his brain that strange combination of racing thoughts and sluggish connections that accompanies desperation.

"Ask me for it. I want to hear it."

Marco's breath catches, he holds it, feeling his cock twitch against the demon's entrance, a world of pleasure and release just waiting for him if I could only-

"P..se..."

"What was that?"

"Pl... e..."

"I couldn't hear you. Come again?"

Marco grits his teeth, his cock aching painfully now. He feel a bead of precome slide down his length.

" _Please_!" Marco bites out, face flushed with equal parts shame and desire.

"That's it. Louder, Father!," the demon prompts, his voice ragged with obvious desire of his own, grinding against the priest, "I want the whole goddamn parish to know how much you're begging for it."

"G-God! Please just fuck me!" Marco nearly sobs, thrusting his hips up vainly, "Please!"

"That's it. Good boy," the incubus praises, voice velvety as he finally sinks down onto the priest's cock.

Marco swears the entire world whites out for a second. Everything is tight and hot and _so_ , _so good_.

"Nnnng, _oh, Father_ ," the incubus moans above him, "oh, God, your cock is so good, _fuck_."

Marco can barely breath. His body feels like every nerve in his body is simultaneously melting into fuzzy numbness and pricking up into sensitized overdrive. Unable to control himself, his hands shoot up to grip the lean hips for leverage and thrusts.

"I- _O-oh_ -" Marco chokes out, the sensation making his head spin.

"Nice to see you finally taking charge," the incubus laughs, panting as well and then lets out a deep groan of his own.

Marco starts thrusting in earnest, his hips snapping up. The grin on the demon's face makes it all the better.

The pale silver of the moonlight filtering through the window sets the hard planes of his chest alight, the rosary bouncing on it sending shadows dancing across his skin with each with each thrust.

"In your mouth," Marco is whispering before he realizes it, his voice tense, almost desperate sounding.

The golden eyes widen for second before sliding into a smirk worth of his nature.

"That's the spirit, Father," he praises before reaching down with one hand to grasp the end of the rosary right before where the wooden cross hangs, and pull it up to his lips, placing it between his teeth. The other reaches down to wrap around his hard length - _what would that feel like inside of_ me _?_ \- and begins to pump.

The incubus looks absolutely sinful like this, riding Marco's cock, panting and groaning around the priest's rosary beads, wooden cross lightly swinging against his lips-

Marco isn't going to last long like this.

He can feel a ledge approaching, hot and glorious, his thrusts becoming erratic, fingers gripping white on the demon's hips.

"Close?" The incubus mumbles around the beads.

"Y-yes- _oh!_ " Marco gasps in response. The incubus nods frantically, and Marco knows that means - along with the rapid pace of his hand and the quivering of his thighs - that he's close as well.

"Ah! Ah!  _Fuck_! Lord Almighty, you feel _so- Nnn!_ " Marco is mumbling and gasping incoherently, his thoughts dissipating in the hazy white glow of his mind.

The sound of the demon, his moans becoming higher and needier, mumbling filthy, wanton things around his _rosary_ has Marco teetering on the edge before the desperate, whispered " _Come inside me!_ " and a rough, deep thrust sends him out of his mind.

Marco's body jerks as his orgasm wracks him, shooting into the tight heat of the incubus. In the throws, he feels the body around him tighten, a long low moan that sends goose bumps over his skin, and a hot wetness on his stomach, signaling he wasn't the only one.

Panting in the darkness, the smell of sex and sweat hanging now instead scented candles and old books, they just lay for a moment, Marco feeling heaviness descend on his limbs, his mind floating in warm serenity.

But the body above him stirs, jerking him from his afterglow.

" _Damn_ , Father...that was- whew...Always the Catholics, man." The incubus extracts himself from their tangle with slick damp sounds that are loud in the otherwise quiet room. "All right, I'm going to get cleaned up and be right back."

"Back?" Marco asks, the tone in the incubus's voice making him sit up a bit more.

"Well yeah. That was only round one." Standing next to the bed, sweat soaked and fucked out, the demon looks sinful and glorious as he points to himself with a cocky grin. "Incubus. It's kind of an all-night deal."

Marco collapses back against the pillows with a resigned exhale.

"Heaven help me," he whispers to the ceiling.


End file.
